A Wizard's Tale
by WaveBringer
Summary: The fate of Morishon lies in the hands of a small group, called Guardians. The Guardians will traverse across both Feran and Koras to unlock their full potential and destroy the threat to their world. Set on a custom campaign world, record of adventures.
1. Beginnings

The city was in uproar for an annual celebration. A new day was on the horizon, and with it, came a new year. The various populace of the merchant-city of Iris rejoiced in this, the prospect of a new start, another chance. The local guild of mages within the massive city held a denizen readied for a journey. The building itself was modest, if not well maintained. Despite its reticent appearance, even the inhabitants of the mages' guild held the new year as a time for celebration, though mostly apprentices were engaged in the festivities of the night. Among them was one about to be released from apprenticeship, as a full-fledged mage, Kael Meleth. Thus despite his normally taciturn behavior, he was doubly obliged to join in the revelry. Of course, his very own nature made this difficult, and he found himself associating with a fellow apprentice, one of the select few he would call a friend. But as Mark dismissed himself to retire, Kael found himself doing so as well. He ascended the stairway in a sleepy haze, years of apprenticeship his guide to his room when his body had all but ceased to function. Entering his room quietly, he collapsed upon his bed, and without further struggle, fatigue overcame him.

He awoke to the sun's impertinent gaze, its bright rays awakening him from his restless sleep. Kael Meleth crawled out of bed to perform his morning rituals before heading down for breakfast. It was a simple meal and finishing quickly, he promptly dismissed himself from the dining hall traversing the building's complex pathways to an unmarked door. The door would have been indistinguishable from those surrounding it, had Kael not lived within the confines of the guild for years now. The door opened with an audible creak, its hinges having been unkempt for quite some time. The inhabitant of the room busied himself with much more important things, or so he said. The room itself was much worse than the state of the door hinge. Books were scattered across the floor with various vials, empty or otherwise randomly placed around the room. A single fine wooden table, now worn due to previous misuse, was currently serving the uses of a surprisingly large man. There was a perpetual scowl on his features and his blue eyes contemptuously stared at a single object, or rather person.Kael Meleth's master gazed at his student with unhidden annoyance.

"Your inability to obey even the simples of commands greatly irritates me. Even on the day that I am to tell you that you are competent, and, mind you, barely at that, enough to dabble in the arts of the arcane you show up long past the given time. I doubt myself in telling you that you are indeed able to perform your spells adequately enough to be released from your apprenticeship. Nevertheless, I am sick of holding your hand. No matter how half-heartedly, I congratulate you, Kael Meleth," his gruff voice boomed coupled with undisguised irritation.

"Thank you," Kael replied simply, purposely forgetting to add master at the end of his sentence. He continued, his voice heavy with sarcasm, "Have you no parting gift for your beloved student?"

"But one," his master paused, "a letter not intended for the likes of you. Deliver it to the Guild of Mages located in the fortress-city of Unum. Surely even your meager talents can accomplish this task I set before you?"

"Yes," Kael replied curtly, before promptly taking the letter out of his master outstretched hand eager to depart this home he loathed. Leaving his master's room, he heard his master's rough voice call out after him, "Don't get yourself killed! I still have more chores for you to do!"

Kael left the building he had called home for many years of his life, giving a bitter mental goodbye to the horrid place. He fumbled with the straps on his traveler's bag as he haphazardly placed the sealed letter inside. He had no chance of examining the contents of the letter without the receiver learning of his tampering due to the seal. Kael outwardly sighed at his failed attempts to learn more of his master's interests. He cast one, last contempt filled look at the building before stopping by the tavern he had visited the night before.

He was not surprised to learn that some of the night's previous occupants still lingered in the tavern, or, rather, they lay strewn about the room in a drunken stupor, some with half-empty mugs still in their hands. Kael strode uneasily among the unaware bodies toward the half passed out barkeep. The early hour did not inhibit Kael in any way as he ordered a single drink. The barkeep eyed him perplexedly.

"A good luck drink, if you will. I've a long journey ahead of me," Kael answered the man's unspoken question.

Kael Meleth left the tavern wordlessly, his body mechanically aiming its footsteps towards the City Square. Even in the early morning, merchant's cries rang out among the mindless conversations of the public. Two trains of linked wagons led by teams of horses stood in the middle of the square, advertising their presence to all who would pay heed. Kael eyed both caravans before choosing the one on the left, mimicking his handedness. He approached the leader carrying his long, bulky quarterstaff in his left hand.

"Excuse me," Kael called out above the noise of the general public. The man regarded him and responded, almost hurriedly,

"What do you need? We're about to set off."

"Just a question, where is your caravan headed?" Kael queried indifferently.

"The city of Unum, we are to deliver a cache of weapons to the military there," the man responded, his voice still rushed.

"It appears you may have need of a guard, care to have a wizard watch over your caravan?" Kael proposed, ensuring that he hid any trace of hope from his voice. There was no need to let the man know more than he needed.

"We've many men already, all of them trained. But your presence would be helpful." The man regarded him a moment longer, a thoughtful expression on his face, as if torn between two decisions. After a moment, the man continued, "Sure. I can't promise you that the pay will be good." The man responded uncertainly.

"That will be fine, I will accompany you…" Kael paused, having no clue to his current employer's name.

"Achard Breen, captain of the caravan guard," Achard stated almost proudly.

Eyeing the ragtag bunch, Kael surmised that the so-called captain had a low standard for excellence. He resigned himself to walking alongside the long train of wagons, which would soon likely be under the merciless sun, and his only company would be some idiot yokels playing soldier. A pity, that.

The day travel was long but difficult, the many hills and twists and winds of the forest path causing difficulties for those in the caravan. At nightfall, the group set up camp and ate amongst each other, Kael avoiding any other members of the caravan. He felt no need to associate himself with those so far below him and made his opinion no secret. Within a day, he had set up his reputation as a recluse, and soon all within the caravan made it a point to avoid him and his biting comments. This process repeated for several days, but at noon on third day this peaceful cycle was abruptly ended.

Having traveled for several hours already, adjacent to the slowly trudging caravan, Kael was genuinely surprised when the caravan abruptly stopped. Urgent conversation caught Kael's interest and he hurried forward to understand the source of the stop and the newfound commotion. He quickly reached the front of the long train and noted the creature that situated itself directly in front of the caravan's path. A large brown bear eyed the caravan warily. Although it was not openly hostile, the massive creature was clearly on edge. Within moments the situation promised to escalate into worse. Kael quickly processed the options viable to him in his mind. If he could enter within arm's reach of the creature and the mutter the right incantations, he should be able to understand any language it spoke. If it spoke any, Kael realized. On the other hand, he could openly confront the bear with hostility in the attempt to kill the obstacle in the caravan's path. That'll do, Kael decided. As he walked forward to execute his plan, ignoring the guards' frantic warnings, a grim smile formed upon his lips. He felt no fear, only a sense of unrivaled exhilaration as he spoke the words of magic, their mere utterance charging the air with power. Kael's left hand was suddenly consumed in lightning, though the eldritch energies did not harm him, and, without hesitation, thrust the lethal energies at the unsuspecting bear. There was a brilliant discharge, and Kael allowed himself a moment to revel in his might.

A thunderous blow crashed into Kael's ribs, the force of the blow lifting him from his feet. The pain was extraordinary. Landing hard upon the ground, his body numb from shock, Kael could only stare incredulous at the object that had caused him such grief. The bear still stood, quite very much alive, with only a patched of singed fur giving any indication it had suffered, if it had at all, from Kael's spellwork. As the darkness sought to claim him, Kael could hear the panicked rush of his fellow guards' feet as they came to aid him. He cursed his current ignoble position, gladly welcoming the peace of unconsciousness.

He awoke laying in one of the caravan's many wagons. He urged his body to move, but in return only received sharp stabs of pain that ran across his entire body. He resigned himself to lie back down and his eyes caught sight of Achard Breen. The man regarded him mockingly.

"Quite the display, wizard. Truly, we were all amazed out how brilliantly your hand glowed; I am sure you have impressed many children with that trick. However, I suggest you take it easy for the rest of the journey, and leave the fighting to more… able bodies. By the way, you owe Lox a beer; he saved your life back there."

"What of the cursed bear?" Kael Meleth asked, unable to hide the vehemence in his voice. A sharp stab of pain ran through his body, Kael grimacing as he realized the true extant of his injuries.

"Dinfar and Gybol brought the beast down. I've no idea what you were thinking confronting the beast by your lonesome."

Neither do I, Kael thought. Unwilling to continue to face the shame of his failure, he allowed his eyelids to slowly fall in place over his eyes and let sleep claim him once more. The rest of the journey past without note, not that Kael had anything to note but the wagon he inhabited. Only near the end of the journey could he move about on his legs again and even then, it ached to do so.

The caravan entered through the outer gates of Unum, guards inspecting each wagon separately. The caravan passed the second and inner wall similarly. Even from within, the city seemed to sprawl many miles and still appeared like a mighty fort, Kael noted using his quarterstaff to support his still recovering body. The caravan rolled to a stop in front of its destination, a large building with several armored figures standing watch outside. Kael approached Achard Breen.

"Would this be the destination?" he inquired.

"Aye, you are free to go, Kael Meleth," Achard answered, his gaze never leaving the impressive building in front of him.

"And of my pay?" Kael questioned further.

"You traveled with us, consumed our supplies, took up valuable space after failing to stop the only obstacle we faced. There will be no fee for you, if that is your question," Achard said, regarding Kael with an amused expression, as if daring Kael to object.

"Fair enough," Kael responded before leaving the caravan, mentally cursing it as he left its presence.

"Wait, mage," Achard called out. Turning, Kael barely caught an object that had been flung at him. It was a single, copper coin. "That should be enough for your services." Furious, Kael flung the coin to the ground, yelling out an expletive to the guard captain in regards to his mother's sexual habits, before stalking away. Low-life scum, was all Kael thought, his cheeks burning.

Recollecting his thoughts and memories, he recalled the time his master spoke about the Unomian Museum.

"It contains artifacts of many years past. The knowledge and history within its well-guarded walls is a show of Unum's well-kept history," was what the old fool had thought.

Accompanying it, though unwelcome, were thoughts of his childhood here in Unum. He remembered his family before dismissing the thoughts with an unintentional spoken curse. Many of the commoners on the street eyed him cagily. He returned their stares with a foul glare causing them to return to their tasks.

He traversed the well-kept path and realized that around him, everyone seemed aimless. They lived with no purpose, it was almost sickening. Why I left the damned city, Kael realized he had spoken out loud again. He hurried his pace to avoid further misconceptions searching for the familiar walls of the museum. The building easily caught his gaze and he composed himself upon entry.

The same large double doors of fine wood greeted him before he entered the safety of its confines. Paintings, weapons, instruments, and other trivial appearing things adorned the walls and stands, each holding a sum of knowledge beyond that of any human's ability to hold. Despite its popularity, Kael frowned as he noted that there was no one inside today aside from himself. He looked up from examining the sword of the first grandmaster of the Fire Angels to see a bloodied and battered Unomian guard who had just turned the corner.

The man looked at him pleadingly. The man's words rasped against his throat as they barely came out.

"Vault, broken, guards, help." The man collapsed, his strength having left him, his blood quickly forming a pool around him.

Kael rushed down the hallway the guard had emerged from to aid any remaining Unomian guards. He reached the end of the vast corridor to see the steel door not open but torn apart. Inside, the corpses of dozens of guard lay scattered across the chamber. Their blood painted the walls and floors like something out of a crazed man's mind. In the center of the room a single stand lacked whatever it previously held. The entire scene disgusted him, and he felt his insides churn. His afternoon meal escaped his body through his throat, he himself slowly losing awareness of his surroundings.

Kael had barely reached the room when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned to see several guards, too many to count in his state, rushing at him their weapons drawn, gleaming under the torchlight. Kael raised his hands, quarterstaff clattering against the floor. He did not resist at all as the forcefully dragged him away, more guards filling the carnage-decorated room. The image of the bloodied guard that had warned him entered his mind. He eyed the wall where the guard had fallen, his mind barely comprehending what he saw. There was no pool of blood, or a body where the man had fell. The wall was spotless as if that man had never been. Kael kept quiet about his new discovery, unable to answer himself as to why.


	2. Trio

He awoke to the dank cell where he was kept. Cesspool, Kael summed up the entire room with one word. He lay on the disgusting straw that served as both his bed and chamber pot. He had been in here for a week at least, though it was difficult to surmise the passage of time; he attempted to recollect his thoughts. The interrogator had hammered him with questions for the first two days, and for the rest he simply lay here in silence. A man called Achard Breen had vouched for his inability, which also meant vouching for his innocence. If the mage could not deal with a bear, he could not slaughter so many Unomian guards. The rusty prison door opened noisily as a guard dragged him to his feet. He moved wordlessly, hardly shocked when he felt the hardness of the floor within the interrogator's sanctum. He realized he had just been thrown. He simply lay on the floor, lifeless. It was then he recognized that the interrogator had been speaking.

"…thus proving your innocence. It is here that we drop you of all charges," the man said dispassionately.

He turned to the source of a loud thud to see his equipment in a piled heap beside him.

"I suggest you go, lest we change our mind," the interrogator said with a malicious grin.

Kael collected himself enough to gather his belongings and stumble out of the complex. The sun greeted him with bright rays and he shied away from the unfamiliar light. Then, he welcomed it.

After delivering the letter he had forgotten about, Kael had rested several days in an inn located in Unum to regain his strength. He walked out of the building as the door closed behind him. He let out a long sigh, glad to have rested. He noted a sign posted on a nearby door, the Coalition of Warriors. Kael entered the building, thinking it reminiscent to his own Guild of Mages in Iris. It was both similar and different. The men here were uncivilized, Kael judged on first glance. Still, perhaps he could earn some coin for the travel home. A man idling around spoke to him,

"What could your business here be?" he said.

"Just looking for some work is all."

"Oh," the man said with interest, "in that case, care to do some investigating?"

Kael walked down the lonely South Road. He was to investigate several strange caravan disappearances on the South Road. He had passed the city blockade with ease; Kael cared little how or why. His feet stopped as his body recognized the unfamiliar sound around him. Cackling laughter surrounded him on all side. Its origins were undoubtedly located within the dense forest, Kael thought. Kael pointed his quarterstaff threateningly on both sides of him, inadvertently revealing he had no clue to his potential attackers whereabouts. An arrow materialized out of the forest, striking Kael in the right shoulder. Pain radiated out of the wound, slowly spreading to his chest and arm. His eyes blurred with tears and rage. The only signifier of the second arrow was the pain in his right leg that brought him to his knees.

He only barely registered the three gnolls that emerged out of the forest with more of their cursed laughter. Two held out menacing axes and Kael specifically regarded the one with a bow with the most hate. The two with axes flanked him and kicked him onto his back. Kael pulled the thoughts from his mind and muttered arcane tongue. The pain and the gnoll's laughter nearly broke his concentration, but he felt the familiar fire building within his hands. He raised his arm weakly at the creature on his left. It laughed at him before the fire leapt from his hands and engulfed the creature in its entirety. The creature's fur was completely ablaze and it ran blindly in any direction.

The air buzzed like an angry hornet as an arrow emerged from the forest striking the blazing gnoll through the head, ending its suffering. The gnoll with a bow fired a shot at random, the arrow entering the thick forest. In response, a cloaked figure with a naked blade in its hands leapt from the forest at the gnoll with an axe.

The creature barely parried an overhead stroke, but the follow up strike tore open the creature's stomach and its innards spilled out onto the floor. Immediately the figure rushed at the bow wielding gnoll, its previous combatant never ceasing its agonized howls. The creature loosed an arrow into the figure's chest just as it swung its sword in a wide arc, cleanly decapitating the last gnoll. By this time, the previous gnoll had ceased its death screams. Kael had watched the entire scene with a smile before he remembered the feeling of unconsciousness.

He was very surprised to wake up in a wooden chair, his body not bound, his equipment not stolen. He slowly comprehended his surroundings, a scowl slowly appearing on his face as he remembered the place where he was in. The interrogator's room, he thought, his scowl widening. He noted in front of him was the interrogator, and behind him, the figure who had saved him. This time, he had a clear look at his savior, a young man, clearly capable of wielding a sword. The interrogator regarded him with a semblance of pity,

"You truly are a pathetic man, Kael Meleth."

Kael bit back a sharp retort towards the intimidating man. He continued,

"At first, I believed that Achard Breen was lying, perhaps an accomplice to prove your feigned innocence. But after this man," he stated pointing towards the cloaked man, "witnessed your inability to deal with three gnolls, or even notice that he was watching you for nearly a week, the people of Unum have decided to truly clear you of all charges."

"Thank you," Kael said sarcastically.

"Just get out of here," the interrogator responded with annoyance.

"Then I will take my leave," Kael answered, inwardly cursing that man until he was out of the building.

He would return home to Iris and collect whatever was due to him by his master. A revelation suddenly donned upon him. The person he had delivered the letter to had given a letter to be delivered to his master. But, unfortunately, the letter he was to deliver was sealed again, preventing any tampering on his part. If the recent events had taught him anything, it was that he needed able travel companions to ensure his safety, at the very least.

After hours of fruitless search, Kael had finally come upon the Gray Stone Tavern, known for its popularity among mercenaries and travelers. Upon entry, a group of two instantly caught his eye. Two men, one carried a battered sword and a tattered chain shirt. The other had a withered bow and wore torn leather armor. The only thing positive about these men was that they appeared battle-hardened. Judging by their current attire they were either about to leave or had just entered the city. Kael decided to inquire,

"Excuse me, have you two just entered town?"

The one with a bow answered him jovially, "Oh no, we were about to leave for Iris, to see the great merchant city."

That horrid dump, Kael mused. "That's strange, I'm headed the same way. Would you mind if I accompanied you there."

"Not at all, sir…" the one with the bow paused, unable to complete his sentence without knowledge of his pending companion's name.

"Kael, Kael Meleth. Who would you two be?"

"I am Rick and this silent one over here is my friend John. You caught us just in time; we were about to get going. Are you ready, um, Kael is it?"

"I'll be fine," Kael said nonchalantly.

The journey itself was uneventful enough. On the final day of travel, or supposedly so, the sun had fallen earlier than expected and the three had to spend the night in an outlying town. The rooms they had rented were barely adequate, by any standard. Rick was relaxing, but Kael noted his weapons were stowed within arm's reach, and before John went to rest he saw the dagger that was placed beneath the pillow. To rely on such things to protect yourselves, Kael thought contemptuously, I need but my magic to ensure my foe's swift demise. This thought lingered in his mind before he entered a heavy sleep.


	3. The Burning City

An agonized scream in the dead of night was more than enough to wake Kael. He gazed at the room blankly, waiting for his eyes to register his surroundings. His cloak and quarterstaff lay near and he quickly retrieved both. He saw that Rick and John had just finished equipping themselves for battle, meaning that they had awoken long before he had. He wordlessly followed the two down the rickety steps of the tavern. They stopped at ground level; everything was dead silent, providing the room with a frightful eeriness.

After the slight pause in movement, Kael was the first to continue. He opened the tavern door, bringing in the chill wind of the night as Kael absorbed the shocking scene around him. How long had this been going on, he wondered frantically. The entire town was ablaze, fires adorning every place in the city. Rubble and ruin was scattered across the ground and several buildings showed signs of forced entry. Across the walls and grounds of the city, blood was an unavoidable sight. He would have stopped to puke had he not noticed the man with a sword in hand lunging at him. In the brief moments before the attack he recalled the words of power, observing the symbol adorned on the man's clothing, probably of some fell god. He let loose a terrible blaze from his hands, but his attacker was undeterred. The blade fell in a vicious arc across his torso, blood pouring from the wound as it was made. He screamed, alerting many other men that were destroying the city to their presence. His current opponent readied for the killing stroke, but an arrow hit the man in the chest. He let out a brief gurgle before sinking to his knees and collapsing in a heap. Rick and John emerged from the building, Rick showing outward signs of concern for his new companion. John spoke,

"There is probably going to be some people still fleeing in this city. They will not make it far with enemies like these. We will rescue as many as we can and bring them into safety."

Rick and Kael nodded their heads and agreement as the trio observed a mob of unarmed people currently being chased by those with drawn weapons in their hands. One of the unarmed men was cut down and blood sprayed from the freshly made cut as he fell to the ground. Kael let loose bolts of arcane energy, carefully avoiding the unarmed citizens, but indiscriminately harming the armed men. John drew a finely crafted blade as Rick unleashed a rain of death into the crowd of enemies.

The distance between the trio and the oncoming mob of enemies lessened. Kael felt the rush of the commoners rush behind him, he waited until the last one was completely clear. He called upon all his anger and hate, shaping it with his incantation. He saw the crazed eyes of his assailants, before he seared the front ranks with a magical fire. The flames cleared in an instant and John had already decapitated a foe. Rick was steadily falling back, clearing multiple enemies from John with quick, precise shots. Kael put away his quarterstaff, fumbling for his crossbow. When he finally was able to locate his equipment, he hastily loaded a bolt. He fired indiscriminately into the crowd of enemies that was threatening to consume John. John gave ground, allowing at most only three enemies before him. He counted on the simple-minded fanaticism of his opponents and simply guarded or parried, his attackers completely unaware of the arrows cutting down their allies. Kael had added his own salvo of bolts to Rick's, almost rhythmically firing and loading his weapon.

The fight was going well for the three, even when more cultists joined the fray. The tide of battle turned, but Kael was unaware until Rick notified him.

"Don't think we'll be able to hold this much longer, Kael. Could you spare a glance behind you?"

Kael paused from his work to glance over his shoulders, his eyes widening considerably at the sight that greeted him. Another party of cultists had joined the battle, effectively flanking them. But, behind Kael and Rick were the cowering commoners, who could barely comprehend the situation around them. Kael could barely comprehend it himself in fact. Rick shouted,

"Alright, citizens of this town, take refuge in the tavern!" his voice barely reached above the din of battle.

The confused and panicked commoners rushed into the building. The cultists were unfazed, their charge simply continued. Kael did not wait for the inevitable impact, however; he loosened his muscles, having stowed away his crossbow in favor of his quarterstaff. He recalled the words for the spell, feeling the magic guide his senses. Kael lashed out at the first cultist before him, the man receiving a strike to the chest that left the zealot without breath. Kael followed with an upward stroke of his staff; the blow falling barely short of his opponent. A new attacker lashed out with a sword, Kael felt the blade cut across his torso, just as his first opponent's dagger punched a deep hole through his chest. He stumbled backwards, his vision swimming. He registered the unrelenting tide of their innumerable opponents before his body struck the ground and he fell unconscious.

Rick had drawn his blade by this time, a simple short sword, one that obviously seen many uses. John and Rick fought back-to-back, lowering the amount of opponents either had to engage. The cultists rained a hail of blows on John, and despite the swordsman's skills, several broke through his guard, the crude daggers cutting light wounds across his body. Rick was less lucky by far, he himself being far less experienced with a blade. The daggers easily ripped through his light leather armor, drawing themselves across his body. Rick parried a short sword, delivering a vicious riposte in response, an attack that slew his opponent. He drew in years of mental discipline to stay focused despite the numerous lacerations that decorated his body in a vivid red.

John thrust his blade through the throat of his final opponent, the cultist letting out a sick gurgle as her body slumped to the ground. He quickly turned ready to aid his ally. He let out a blood-curdling shout when he saw Rick's crumpled body, lunging into the horde of enemies, wild strokes of his sword smashing through his lightly armored foes. Completely contrasting to his calm and collected demeanor, John had decimated the remaining ten foes in less than that many seconds. His eyes honed in on two crumpled forms that lay amongst the dead, his natural calm overcoming his boiling anger. He dragged the unconscious Kael and the bloodied Rick into the tavern that had given them rest and security but minutes before.

It was a great length of time before Kael had even regained consciousness. The tavern had many inhabitants, but lacked the life and energy that was common to such buildings. Of course, that could easily be attributed to the fact of seeing their hometown burned to the ground as well as neighbors and childhood friends feeding the fire of their homes. Rather morbid, he rebuked himself. He sat up from his makeshift medical bed, two tavern tables, and noticed that Rick was moving about, his body moved as if it lacked any injury at all. Was he really so determined to convince these nebbish lives that the situation was completely fine, he mused. Perhaps it was so that he did not show weakness to John, or himself, he questioned himself further. It was useless dwelling on such things. He sat in the corner, irate over yet another failure.

John noticed that he had awoken and approached him, his voice barely audible despite the short distance between them.

"The cultists here have taken the city, everything to the north is blazing. We are going to take these people and leave through the southern gates, avoiding patrols and mobs of cultists. There is only about fifteen of these commoners, so we will each look after five."

"Sounds good," Kael lied, he detested weaklings like those arranged before him.

Within a few minutes, the small group had organized itself outside the tavern. Nearly every building was in ruins or ablaze, corpses were scattered on the ground like decorations, the streets were paved red with blood. All except John and Rick shivered at the sight. John signaled the group to move forward, Rick took the rear, and Kael watched the front with John. Luckily, the group did not encounter any more mobs of cultists; their injuries were far too serious to handle another such encounter. When the small party was able to see the South Gate, the entire group took cover among the rubble.

Remaining guards of the city combated heretical cultists, and a pair of two men oversaw the fight. One wore a featureless metal mask over his face, his entire body covered in steel full plate armor, standing completely motionless. The other wore a large blue cloak the engulfed his body, a golden mask, reminiscent to a tortured, demonic skull, disguising his face. The two watched with disinterest, even though it was apparent that the fight had just begun in earnest.

The man with the large blue cloak started an incantation that Kael was unable to recognize. Within moments of its start it abruptly ended, a brief hand gesture the prelude to a massive storm of fire that consumed the combatants in an uncontrolled blaze. The fire continued to rage as the two men walked dispassionately through the South Gate. The group that had observed the vicious battle was completely astonished by its finish, the entire party standing breathless for several minutes. Kael himself was dumbfounded; unable to comprehend that such a spell could be cast, if it was one. Those that dedicate themselves to Chaos have strange powers indeed. When another group of cultists marched onto the scene, Kael prayed to whatever gods may exist that they were not seen. Yet, it seemed as if the gods enjoyed his torment.

The cultists cried out in alarm, a man with a bloody short sword pointing in their direction. Rick took the opportunity to cut him and several of his companions down with a hail of arrows, Kael followed suit with his crossbow shortly afterwards. John motioned the crowd of commoners back as he rose, blade naked in his hands. The cultists had been sufficiently weakened by the ranged attacks, yet their still appeared innumerable to Kael. He firmly gripped his quarterstaff and braced for the impact of the charge.

They met the charge with astonishing ferocity, Kael striking down a cultist with a powerful downward swing. He allowed himself a brief smile, the pause in his attack enough time for a cultist to land a blow that sliced across his chest. Kael fell back, his previous injuries and the current one overwhelming him. Was he always destined to fail, he wondered, cursed by the gods to live a life of futility and hopelessness? With all his will he rejected this morbid idea but he still fell to the ground, noticing for the first time the rays of dawn. The cultist that had struck him down raised his sword, poised to strike the killing blow. He urged himself to move, to act, to live. His body stayed motionless, and he cursed himself with all his might.

The cultist stabbed his sword downward, the strike narrowly missing its mark. John had noticed his fallen comrade and dropped his guard for the sake of saving an ally. He had struck the cultist from behind, killing him instantly. But gravity brought the blade down and Kael felt the sharp point mere centimeters from his barely beating heart. He did not know how long he lay there, desperately clinging to life. He felt his wounds being treated, a process that pained him considerably. He lacked the strength to cry out or even struggle from the sudden pain. He saw the South Gate, and the contingent of Iris knights that were there. A hallucination, he thought deprecatingly.

Rick let Kael rest, albeit it was on the stone pavement. He stood and faced the approaching knights along with John.

"It is reassuring to know that there are those who still have good hearts in this kingdom," the knight said.

John ignored the sentiment, "We were able to rescue just this handful. Please, take them under your care."

"We will have that handled, the Iris army is currently scouring the city for other survivors. There are many other dire matters this kingdom faces. The leaders' hands are full, may we once again count on you, Rick and John?"

Rick nodded solemnly, recalling at length in mental rumination of their last service to mankind.

"Then, deliver this letter to the king of Unum, Jonah Lightbringer. It must be received."

John promptly took the letter from the knight's hands. He left through the South Gate carrying Kael upon his shoulders, Rick tagging along silently behind.

Kael awoke in a building he recognized as an inn. He lay flat on the bed, a plate of bread and beans resting by his side. He realized how ravenously hungry he was as soon as he took the first bite of bread. Finishing quickly, he climbed out of bed, his feet wobbly and near unable to support himself. He half-crawled out of the room and down to the first floor. Waiting in full gear were Rick and John.

"How long was I out?" he wondered.

"Only a day," surprisingly, it was John who responded. My body must be getting used to the beatings, Kael mused dismally.

Kael near collapsed on the table, having barely any strength to stand. John explained the details of the rest of the battle, as well as their current mission.

"I understand you're in little condition to travel, but your body should be able to rest on the way there. We have no time to waste."

"I understand," Kael paused in thought, "I just have something to take care of before we leave."

Before Rick or John could stop him he had wobbled out of the door, donning a simple cloak to fend off the morning chill. Kael gazed at the building before him, one he had hoped he would never need to visit again. Foolish, he reprimanded himself, he was returning a letter here after all. Kael Meleth reentered the Mages' Guild, little better than when he first left. Moving about the familiar corridors, old and new faces both glanced at his battered body with a mix of worry and bewilderment. Still, he pushed the door open to his master's room with one hand, letter already outstretched with the other. It would be better if this encounter was as brief as possible.

"And so the prodigal student so triumphantly returns," his master's disparaging voice reached his ears.

"I have your letter," he bit his tongue to prevent any insults he so greatly wished voice.

"And you look as good as new. I bet you had no troubles with this mission at all," his master taunted yet again.

"What of Mark," Kael held back a smile at the thought of his friend, less things for his master to criticize about.

"Oh, you mean the student that completed his apprenticeship only a few days ago. That student will be successful, rather unlike you. He's currently having breakfast."

Kael left wordlessly, not concerning himself with his master. He moved through the hallways, his feet guiding his weakened body to the dining hall. He pushed open the door and throwing aside any social graces bellowed,

"Mark!" his voice carried across the room, returning many odd stares and glances.

He was glad when he was approached by a familiar face.

"It's good to see you, Kael," Mark said despite the strange circumstances of their encounter.

"I have to agree," Kael's voice paused, "there's something I need to talk to you about."

"Yes, what is it?" Mark inquired, genuinely interested.

"Well," Kael started, "I have been assigned a mission of the utmost import. That is to deliver a sealed message from Iris to the king of Unum himself."

"The king!" Mark's casual tone disappearing with his sudden interruption.

Kael quickly quieted down his friend, noting through the corner of his eyes, the odd stares of the other mages within the guild, "And I greatly require aid for this mission."

"Why not ask the masters of the guild then, Kael?"

"Those old fools are barely capable of standing let alone a journey of any length."

"The military and their messengers should surely be able to accomplish this mission? What of accomplished mercenaries or adventurers? All would be better choices than I."

"I have been informed that aid from the military is unavailable due to a myriad of problems. Only a close friend or companion would ever believe a man who said that he needed to deliver a message to a king. Mark, you are the closest friend I have, and the most capable, I would greatly appreciate it if you would accompany my companions and I to ensure that this message reaches its intended recipient."

"Who are these companions you speak of?"

"Two men who were trusted enough by Iris to deliver this message with but the slightest aid. A swordsman of incredible skill and his companion, an archer of impeccable accuracy."

"Should they not be enough? What could two novice arcane users due to aid such warriors of great repute?"

"Hopefully, we will find out of what aid we can be to them."

"I will not be enough. I will not go and hinder this mission."

"Anyone is more than enough. Please, reconsider."

Mark simply stood in silence.

"We leave from the North Gate," Kael stated before leaving to return to the inn where Rick and John awaited.

He had collapsed upon his return and Rick and John were forced to carry him into the wagon. Mark was waiting for them at the North Gate. Rick and John called to their unexpected companion, Kael having already explained the details of his departure that morning.

"Thank you," was all Kael could manage from his ignoble position within the wagon.

"If the kingdoms of this land ask my service, I shall not hesitate to answer," came the reply.

The journey was quick-paced, though Mark showed worry about his close friend who rested in the wagon for the first several days. By that time, he had recovered the strength to walk and Mark was glad that his friend was no longer debilitated. Kael had made sure that his body was completely functional before stepping out to travel alongside his companions; it would not do to simply injure himself again. Ironically, the day he recovered from his injuries was when the orcs attacked.


	4. Grandfather

The day had been unobtrusive; there was nothing apparent of the coming danger. Still, it was luck that the first four arrows missed their marks. The one arrow that struck John rebounded off his pauldrons. The orcs that emerged from the surrounding brush had to be the most intimidating creatures that Kael had ever encountered. Summoning his energy, he called upon the ancient words, letting loose two bright bursts of light, blinding the pair of orcs with unsheathed blades grasped in their hands.

The creatures struck wildly, John easily entered their guard, delivering several decisive blows. The pair of clean cuts would have been fatal to a human, however, the orc showed much more resilience. The orc that John had engaged seem undeterred by the attacks, recovering from his near blindness earlier than Kael had anticipated. The mage shouted out a warning, one that John heard moments too late.

The orc retaliated, a blow that tore through John's armor with ease, slashing across his stomach, if only shallowly. It was apparent that those hiding in the forest gained confidence in this, as four goblins emerged from the surrounding trees, two on the left of the wagon, and two on the right.

Mark, who had been on the right, razed his hands defiantly, a gesture that caused the goblins to laugh and consequently, lower their guard. Mark took this opportunity to release his spell, a strange ray of vibrant colors destroying the goblins' state of consciousness. He turned around completely facing the next pair of goblins, loosing a bolt of magical energy, which struck a goblin in the head. The creature's skull exploded in a vibrant display of red gore.

Kael quickly followed suit, focusing himself on the already fleeing creature. The bolt of energy that he evoked struck the creature in the right thigh, tearing through flesh and muscle with a bright display of blood. Kael quickly followed through by summoning another arcane bolt. This one opened the creature's chest, blood pouring from the now dead creature's wound.

During the course of this, Rick had launched several arrows into an orc's chest with John utilizing a series of vicious blade attacks all of which made their mark but it displayed no sign of weakness. It and its companion had easily pressed John with the simple force from their attacks. Kael maneuvered to the side of the orcs, carefully keeping John out of the spell's reach. He called upon his anger for such beasts, his hatred and loathing of them, letting the fire leap from his hands and burn the air around it, as well as the flesh it reached. Despite this, the orcs showed signs of increased energy. It was as if the damage to their bodies fueled them rather than deterring them.

Kael rushed at the creature with his quarterstaff raised high in his left hand, and with his other, completed the gesture along with the proper incantation. His strike fell with immense precision and speed, striking it upon its skull. This caused the orc to turn its attention towards him, allowing John a quick stab at its exposed throat, an injury that slayed even the tough orc. John retreated several steps, allowing his full attention on the single remaining opponent.

Kael recalled the feeling of paralysis and inability that he felt when close to death, using it to power his arcane energy. He touched the creature with his hand, stepping back to allow the spell to take effect. When the creature froze, stunned, John moved in and cut downwards, a strike that nearly split the orc in half.

Kael allowed himself to survey battlefield. The goblins that were unconscious had been slain in their sleep, and the two other goblins had been torn open by magical energy. In fact, it appeared other than light injuries, their encounter with the dreaded orcs had been favorable. John rose after inspecting the dead body of the orcs.

"We have to warn the kingdom of Unum about this. Though it may not mean much, it could also be the prelude to an orc incursion. We have just crossed the border into Unum, so if I am correct, we should be nearing the holy city, Sanctus. Stopping there will allow a faster messenger to deliver both our message and the recent news we have discovered."

John did not wait for agreement, it was a given. The group started traveling down the road again, with a renewed sense of purpose. Before sunset of the same day, they had come upon Sanctus, an admirable city by any standard. The group reached the town's gates to find it closed. John called out,

"Please open up, we have an urgent message that needs to be delivered!"

The only response to their cry was the opening of the gates. A man that could be visibly identified as a captain waited at the gates. He seemed amiable enough. He nodded his head slightly, an action signifying that the message be relayed. John approached him and handed him the letter.

"Aside from this letter that we were told to deliver to the king of Unum, Jonah Lightbringer, there is another message I must tell you. Today, during our travels, we were attacked by a small orcish warband. This may mean nothing, but if you could relay this message to the king as well, I would be greatly relieved."

"Of course, thank you. Please, rest in our town for a while, you have done your part well. Do not worry about the fee, the job you have you performed is in place of your monetary compensation." The captain's tone was shockingly relaxed. Had any common bystander been listening to the exchange of words, they would be surprised, due to the dire news he had just received. Kael was.

John, Mark, and Rick nodded a simple thank you and headed in the direction of the inn, which the captain had signified before he left. Kael's dreams did not allow him a peaceful rest.

He dreamt of his family, the family he loathed more so than anything that existed in this world. The one that considered him a blemish, an imperfection, and yet held his brother in the highest regard. Specifically, he dreamt of his grandfather, whose name he hated and did bother to recall, and several cousins and his only brother. They were all calling grandfather, and strangely, he himself was as well. Though, his tone was not hating, it could easily be categorized as uncompassionate.

Kael awoke from his dream with a start, sitting upright. Holding a hand to his head, he wondered why he was having such dreams. In fact, he thought he heard the word 'grandfather' still, in the realm of consciousness. Though, that was not a fallacy. He could hear the rhythmic chanting of the word outside the inn.

"Grandfather, grandfather, grandfather," the voices blended in near unison, focusing all their attention on annunciating the word.

Kael donned his robe and awoke Mark, noting that Rick and John were already awake. He stood in darkness for several minutes, waiting for his friend and companion to finish donning his pack and clothing. The four rushed downstairs, none fully comprehending of the situation that had disturbed their slumber. Mark reached the ground level floor first, to see the tavern's owner and his sons waiting for them. Each had a dagger drawn, their posture evidently threatening.

Kael himself was at a loss; any spell he conjured to deal with them could easily kill them, not that he had any energy left to cast. Mark remedied the dilemma, another vibrant spray of varied colors directed at the commoner's. Each fell, their daggers clattering noisily upon the hard wooden floor. The chanting had yet to cease or quiet, if not having gotten louder. The back door of the tavern opened, and Kael saw the captain of the guard.

"It would appear the nearly all of the townspeople have rebelled. Come with me to the temple, it should still be a safe haven."

The group had no other options, choosing to follow the captain of the guard to the temple located at the center of town. The five of them traversed the stone steps easily, entering a room with an altar and several candles illuminating the path to it. The group walked forward, the room devoid of any signs of inhabitance, walking on the stone floor through the doorless entrance they had preceded through. Strangely, the captain guard halted his step. He turned with a smile.

"Welcome to grandfather's house."

An unnatural wind, originating from within the confines of the temple, snuffed all the candles, leaving only the dim moonlight to brighten the room. Then, emerging from a side passage came a man who was not armed with any obvious weaponry. He wore a heavy drab cloak, one that masked any features about him. Opposite him, a flood of zombies emerged. They marched forward with blank gazes, numerous wounds adorning their rotted bodies. They stumbled over the wooden pews haphazardly, and the captain of the guard drew his sword. However, Mark had just finished the preparations for his spell, his hand connecting with the captain of the guard.

The man froze, his sword falling to the ground. Mark drew his dagger and slit the man's throat, the former captain of the guard crumpling to the floor, blood already pooling around his head. Rick and John shouted, engaging the zombies. For now, the man who had entered alongside the zombies stood and watched the conflict unfold. Kael and Mark drew their crossbows, loading bolts and firing indiscriminately into the massive horde. Rick and John had engaged the creatures with their swords, slowing their unrelenting advance for but a moment. But, even they were pushed back, the weight of numbers and pressing bodies too much. The stench of rotting flesh filled the air, as bolt after bolt struck home, no cry of pain or anguish rewarding the attacker.

The monsters gazed on with a simple-minded determination, if it could be described as such. They used their bodies as weapons, unnatural strength striking with more force than most humans would ever naturally possess. Kael reached for another bolt, finding none to replace the one he had fired. He abandoned the foolish notion of drawing his quarterstaff against the fleshy, lumbering mass. He drew his dagger instead, supporting Rick and John with the force of his blows, however little it might be. Mark had also joined, his supply of ammunition now nonexistent as well.

Within moments of engagement, Kael already sported several injuries, seeing that Rick and Mark possessed a few as well. John seemed relatively uninjured, though his fatigue from battle and weariness from lack of sleep were evident in his strikes, even to Kael. Though before they seemed innumerable, Kael saw the waning numbers of the zombies. He stabbed one through the eye, pulling his dagger loose to allow the corpse to fall. He eyed his dagger for a second, deciding that his foe's rotting bodies probably harbored a plague. He threw it at the nearest zombie, the sharp blade embedding itself in the monster's body before Rick's sword hacked off its head. John rushed forward, cutting down three zombies with several quick cuts. The last of the zombies fell to Mark, striking a head-shattering blow with his quarterstaff.

Kael turned to face the hooded figure, whom now had his hood removed. His face was covered in warts and boils, his skin clearly rotting. Though he lacked lips, what remained was twisted into a wicked smile, a sound like the scratching of silverware against plates emitting from the thing's mouth. Kael realized this was laughter of some kind. He spoke, his voice a horrible, detestable sound,

"You have done well," its voice coming out in sickening rasps, "I give you one chance. Avum allows his servants to no longer experience pain or suffering, if we simply accept him."

John did not miss a beat, "You scum are revolting and sickening, a horrible stain on humanity. I would never serve your evil masters."

"So you chose death," the creature responded just as quickly, almost expectantly.

The man-thing drew its weapon, a strange metal blade, and prepared to engage the greatly weakened party. But, emerging behind it came a bloodied priestess, her face an unveiled mask of hate. She charged the creature with a metal mace held high.

"Interesting," it smiled, the same twisted smile, "so a priestess of Aluhtri chooses to break her vows never to fight."

The priestess launched an attack, which was blocked by the man-thing. It had tremendous strength, Kael noticed due to the ease of his stance. It was still several paces from the main entrance so he rushed forward, not wishing to engage whatever it was in combat. He was tired from lack of sleep, injured and fatigued from battle, lacked any sort of proper weaponry to engage this new foe, and he had no spells to use. When Kael reached the massive archway leading outside he stopped in his tracks, surprised that he had not noticed the occurrence that greeted his eyes during his time in the temple.

It appeared as if the entire town of Sanctus had gathered around the entrance to the temple. It was a united symphony of voices, each chanting a single word. Grandfather. Kael's thoughts raced. The entire holy city of Sanctus, corrupted? The thought was unbearable, that the one of the most revered cities could so easily fall. He stumbled backwards, John and Rick having just surveyed the scene. There was no chance they would break through the thick press of bodies, not to mention the fact that nearly each one was armed with an improvised weapon.

Kael yelled one word as he reentered the false safe haven, "Run!"

However, none knew of any exits in the temple other than the priestess. Apparently, she must have realized it as well, charging past them in an attempt to lead them to a possible alternate exit. The four followed her down the twisting passages of stone, each area they passed looking identical to the previous one. Kael glanced behind him, seeing no sign of any pursuers. He breathed a heavy sigh of relief when the priestess stopped, she must have found the exit. He slowed his feet next to hers.

In front of a single door that Kael instinctively knew led to safety stood the Avum warrior. To the left and right of him was double the amount of zombies they had faced before, looking significantly stronger than their previous opponents. Kael lost all hope, in its place coming unrivaled hatred and rage.

He ran straight at his opponent, seeing the other members of the party doing the same. They all held the same thought. If they could just kill that creature, they would all be free. Despite his head start, the priestess reached the creature first, her furious blows being parried as if they were a child's to an adult's. The warrior of Avum fought without savvy or finesse, utilizing powerful blows strengthened by his dark masters. In a show of defiance and rage the priestess held her weapon up to block, but the force of the blow destroyed her guard and the blade nestled itself her shoulder. The Avum warrior smiled disgustingly and effortlessly he willed the blade downwards severing the girl's arm from her body. Soundless, she fell back, landing hard on the ground, the zombies inevitably inching closer.

Kael lashed out with all his might, feeling the solidity of the block that the opponent they faced held. With its free hand, engulfed in strange corrupt energy, it punched Kael, the force both knocking him back and filling every inch of his body with unrivaled pain.

With a simple motion, it waved its free hand again, bolts of energy leaping out and striking Mark in the chest twice, knocking him to the ground, his body convulsing. Rick and John arrived in unison, a combined succession of attacks forcing their way through the creature's guard. Their attacks rebounded off the creature, newly made tears in its mock-priestly garment revealing a layer of heavy metal beneath. Kael watched on through tear-filled eyes as John and Rick leapt back, noting this new advantage their opponent held. The tears blurred his vision considerably and all he could see was that two more bodies fell. Then, the pain overwhelmed him, and all went black.


	5. War's Prelude

Kael awoke with a start, blood coming from the wounds he had just reopened. He was suddenly alert, his eyes instantly grasping every aspect of his current surroundings. Rick lay prostrate on the ground covered with diseased hay. John lay slumped against the wall, his customary chainmail still adorning his body, sword by his side. Whatever had captured them did not hold them to be very great threats. Then the events of sometime ago struck him like falling off a waterfall. It was then he noted the absence of his friend Mark, and the priestess that had inadvertently led them to their fate. Aside from the poor conditions of the sickly room, the only thing barring exit was a small iron portcullis that appeared rusted with age.

Kael turned to Rick and nudged him, lightly at first. Within moments he shoved him heavily, moving the prostrate form across the ground, rewarding Kael with Rick's slight stirring. Kael was overjoyed, at least Rick was alive. Several seconds passed, and Rick opened his eyes, the brown irises staring at Kael. The normally roguish Rick had no comment in their present situation.

With wordless confirmation the pair turned to awaken John. It was then they assessed their situations, their voices barely a whisper. Kael spoke first,

"Why are we still alive?"

"Perhaps we were next in line to be sacrificed," John somberly stated, he needed not add the fact that two of the party members were currently absent.

"If that's the case, there's no chance I'm waiting here. Help me with the gate, maybe we can open it."

Both John and Kael readily agreed to the idea of escape, rising to the gate along with Rick. Grasping the rusted iron bars firmly in his hands, they pushed with all the might he possessed, which was currently lacking due to their present condition. Unfortunately, their attempts only created a cacophony of iron striking stone, guaranteed to attract unwanted attention.

Fueled by mounting desperation and their unbreakable resolve to escape, the three pushed upon the iron gates again, with the same result. Now fueled by simple anger directed at the object that barred their freedom the trio pushed with all their might. The thin iron gate gave way, collapsing to the stone ground outside, taking Rick, Kael, and John with it, their weight offset by their recent attempts of escape. They did not stop for a moment, immediately they rose and darted out of the hallway, eager to find the brilliant rays of the sun that meant outdoors.

They reached what appeared to be the adepts' quarters, scattered beds and belongings denoting this idea. The group was midway through the room when echoing footsteps reached their ears. In a hushed panic, all three of them sought cover beneath the beds, they themselves in no condition to fight. Kael's eyes trained on the stairway where the sound was emanating from. Slow and inexorable, the footsteps came, methodically repeating. What was several seconds dragged out into eternity.

When an armored foot hit the stone floor before Kael's face, he lamented his luck. Rick, who possessed a better vantage point, easily had identified the Holy Blades' universal mark. Rick rose, John quickly following suit. The armored knight instinctively drew his hand to his blade, relaxing after noting their lack of heretical zeal. Kael got up last; his beaten form entering the knight's field of view. The knight inquired Rick and John of the details of recent events, the two almost regrettably told the details, their voices betraying a hint of anger when they explained their defeat. The knight motioned for them to sit on the beds, explaining that he had a story to tell as well.

"The letter that was entrusted to you by the Iris government, which was intended for Jonah Lightbringer, king of Unum, was a very critical message. Written upon it was news of a donning orc incursion. Since Unum is our northern neighbor, expanding their kingdom all the way to the eastern Feran coast, it was crucial that we warn them of the orcs who are their northern neighbors. However, the message was not delivered and the orcs initial attack was devastating, many northern military outposts lay in ruin. Their initial momentum has not been lost and though the majority of the orc forces is held at Dragon's Pass by forces from Palanka, the legendary military outpost, as I am sure you have heard. Less known to the public is the rise of Chaos action, many towns such as this one, the holy city of Sanctus, have been corrupted and it becomes more pressing that the two kingdoms of Unum and Iris take action as a whole."

The knowledge of the message's import struck Kael like a hammer blow. He was speechless, that because of his failure, hundreds and soon thousands would die. He thought that he did a favor to the Unomian Kingdom, warning Sanctus about the orcs, instead he failed again. But, this time his failure did not only cost himself something, but it had cost many lives, and it will cost many more lives because he failed again. Kael fought back his anger, suppressing his emotion. Rick read his inner conflict easily, but he lacked words of comfort and reassurance. The knight spoke again,

"We have three horses available so you can finish your journey to Unum, whatever that may mean to you."

"That would be fine, thank you," John spoke; no trace of any emotion in his voice, Rick read the sorrow in his voice as a scholar would read a book.

The remaining journey to Unum was solemn; signs of war were subtle, but evident to the trained eyes of Rick and John. They noted the frightened eyes of huddling children, the fearful glances of whispering adults, the increased patrols of purposeful soldiers, the decreased flow of wanderers and the like, all this Kael failed to see. The waning nights were sleepless, as he was constantly tormented by nightmares. Each time the message was the same, though the scene different. The orcs would descend upon a hapless settlement, filled with innocent people and the savage beasts would slaughter them all. Each time Kael awoke with cold sweat covering his entire body, and he found himself staying yet another night without sleep.

Kael was shocked when they finally reached Unum again, the city looked entirely different with the wartime setting. The exterior had changed only slightly, but for the first time, Kael noticed the eyes of the people, the eyes of those in wartime. And this was his entire fault Kael somberly reminded himself again. John and Rick dismounted, Kael thought of this as a cue to do the same. John spoke to him bluntly, but not unsociably,

"Kael, Rick and I have been discussing, and we will join the army to combat the orcs. After all," he paused, realizing the state that Kael was in, but hesitantly, he continued, "It was our fault. As always, you are welcome to join us."

Kael decided quickly, "No, I think I just need some time to think is all. Best of luck to you."

"Thank you, good luck to you as well." With that, Rick and John disappeared amongst the crowd of confused commoners.

Kael drunkenly staggered into the nearest inn and rented himself a room. He climbed up the stairs in a haze and when the door was safely locked behind him, he let the tears of a child streak down his face until sleep took him from his misery, into the land of nightmares again.

He awoke suddenly, the same haunting nightmare coming again to grant him a restless sleep. He found only one way to prevent failure, as he had so recently committed on a colossal scale. The one and only answer was simple, one that he had completely overlooked: to become stronger. He arose with that single resolution in mind and purposefully, he marched down the wooden steps of the inn to train himself in all ways. There was much work in a wartime city, but one offer in particular was strangely appealing to him. It offered a chance for revenge, coin, and peace at the same time. Offered by dwarven bounty hunter Korag Rylier, the deal was simple, he would pay one piece of gold per gnoll head, as proof of their death. After a brief inquiry around the city, Kael surmised that the outbreak of war had allowed the gnolls to become quite a problem, even in Unum. Within the hour, Kael had journeyed deep into Unomian forest to slaughter the beasts that disgraced him so easily weeks ago.

The creature dropped to the ground, a hole through its chest. Kael still had his armed tensely raised, arcane energies pouring into the air long past the delivery of the spell. He moved forward to begin the disgusting, bloody work of decapitating and collecting the creature's head for coin when a pair of gnolls emerged from the forest, shocked expression evident in their beady eyes. Kael called the words from the depths of his memory, each articulation heating the air around him. He finished, his final syllable delivered with both hate and vengeance directed towards the vile creature's that had slighted his pride. Instantly, an inferno consumed Kael's pair opponents, and in another instant the heat and fire disappeared. The damage dealt was evident by the smell of crisply burnt flesh. Breathing heavily, Kael stood and watched as both his opponents hit the grass of the forest with a soft thud against the dirt ground. As Kael took his dagger to collect his fee, he decided on returning with a sum of thirty gold pieces in gnoll heads. Before, he fell to these creatures with such ease, but now the opposite was true. With his newfound determination, he promised himself not to fail again.


	6. Sword and Bow

The man turned restlessly in his bed, his body protesting each slight movement, as his every muscle seemed to cry out for his attention. Still, despite his discomfort, the man could not will himself to escape the grasp of slumber, the fatigue in his body weighed far too heavily upon him to resist. Afflicted thus, he continued his futile struggle to attain comfort, his ceaseless turnings eventually forcing him into contact with his companion, whom, unlike him, reclined peacefully.

"My butt hurts…" a voice trailed off as he tossed in bed.

The other awoke, his eyes penetrating deeply into that of the one who first awoke. He held back both a gasp and a scream, rolling out of bed and slamming against the hard wooden floor. He rose quickly, shock easily numbing the pain, and having heard the comment of the one who first awoke, refused to state that, though true, his body felt similar. The one who had first awoke and spoke did so again,

"Who the hell are you!"

"Who the hell are you!" the other spat back instantaneously.

Both of them cursing, the second to awake stopped his verbal profanity and inquired, to no one in particular, "Who… am I?"

"I'm not sure," the first stated as if answering the same question for himself.

The calm was replaced with more panic when both realized their current clothing, or lack thereof. The conversation that ensued was simply expletives that the pair directed towards each other. After the two had donned clothes and grown somewhat accustomed to the other's presence, they attempted to determine their identities for hours. And for hours, they failed.

The larger, bulkier elf shouted an expletive, "This is hopeless!"

The human would have attempted to calm the elf, if he did not agree with elf's statement. The duo resigned themselves, giving up on the fruitless search to uncover their names. They resolved to create names of their own, but having lost a significant portion of their memory, came up with exotic and unusual ones for themselves. In fact, they could hardly be considered names at all, lacking in both surname and more closely resembling a childish nickname than anything else. The smaller human had determined to give himself the name of Sleet, for when looking out the window he observed the thin layer of ice that covered the ground. The larger elf had christened himself Aduro, which had been formulated by random chance and the elf's current ample creativity.

"Well then, Sleet, what do you believe we should do now?" the elf inquired of his current companion.

"It is in this city that I have lost my memories, and I shall remain here to find them again," came the Sleet's reply.

"Sit idle!" Aduro exclaimed angrily, it was clear that he did not champion inactivity of any kind.

Yet, before the human could reply and attempt to calm his elven companion, the hot-tempered elf stormed out of the room and left the inn in which they were currently residing, surprising the inn's current inhabitants by his purposely raucous footsteps.

A thin elf meandered the market square of Iris airily, browsing the various items that the vendors had for sale, before crushing the false hope he gave to all of them by just as airily leaving. Due to his current inattentiveness, it was on his journey to the next stand that he collided with another who was wandering the streets of Iris, though for entirely different reasons. The thin elf, which had been knocked down by his sudden encounter with the other market wanderer, rose indignantly, his voice and words evidently placing all blame on the one he had crashed into,

"Watch where you're going!" the elf started before viewing the other's remarkable size.

Aduro, whose head had calmed considerably whilst traversing the busy streets, had become enraged again by his collision with the smaller elf before him, but he was moreso annoyed with the elf's manners. He was about to yell back, which would have easily caused a ruckus in the square now that half the commoners in the area had focused their attention on the two elves, a rarity even in the capital city of the kingdom, but also on what would have been their current argument; however, Aduro was shocked to see the thin elf now bowing, delivering a brief yet humble apology.

"I am very sorry, I had not realized that I was at fault. Forgive my rudeness, please, allow me to purchase you a meal in compensation for the trouble I have caused you," those were the words that came from elf's mouth, but they were only delivered due to the elf's realization of his would-be opponent's vastly larger size.

Still, Aduro heartily accepted the feigned apology and gratis meal. The other elf combed the market square for a suitable stall, not minding the fact its price if it would prevent his untimely demise, with Aduro calmly trailing behind. Eventually, the elf led his unwanted companion to a small, simple stall, but the elf promised the food's quality. The two sat down, and in a small span of time, two bowls of steaming soup were served to them. The thin elf, now enjoying Aduro's pleasant, albeit somewhat brutish, nature, casually asked his unlikely companion's name.

"Aduro," he replied, who had grown to like the thin elf as well, despite previous misgivings. "May I ask of your name, then?"

"Airion Faelon," the thin elf replied.

"I am glad to have met you, Airion."

"As am I, Aduro. Sincerely, I am sorry for our prior qualm."

Airion, now thinking of his prospective journey to Unum decided that a traveling companion with whom he had grown quite quaint would prove beneficial, especially if Aduro was already to travel in the same direction.

"Say, Aduro, were you thinking of heading to Unum?"

"I had no plans of travel, though the long idleness I have spent in this city does bore me. Why do you ask, though, are you heading to Unum yourself?"

"Yes, I had plans to, and I would elated if a fine person such as yourself would accompany me on such a long journey."

"I would be glad to," responded Aduro, suddenly recalling his anger at his former human companion, Sleet. Aduro dismissed himself, having finished his soup but moments earlier than Airion had.

Airion finished slightly later and happily declared to the shop's single vendor that he would enjoy another one. The elderly lady gladly turned around and started preparing her only business that day another meal. Airion quietly dismissed himself and let the tertiary bowl sit steaming, not leaving but a copper piece in compensation before joining Aduro.

Thus, the rare duo of elves combed the streets of Iris in search of a suitable source of travel. When they had come up on one, a rare caravan due to the nascent war, the two quickly approached the leader of the group. Once they had garnered his attention, Airion was the first to speak, "Excuse me sir."

The leader of the caravan responded irritably, "What?"

"I would like to ask if this caravan's destination would be Unum, and if it was, does it require additional protection from two capable warriors such as ourselves?"

"Yes, the caravan's heading to Unum," before responding to the next inquiry the leader of the caravan eyed Airion with a sigh, but a brief grin played across his face when viewing Aduro, "There's always room for more help with this war going on. We'd be glad to have you along with us. I can only promise you five gold pieces each though, even if you do decide to join us."

"That would be fine, thank you," Airion replied.

It was nightfall on the first day of travel when Aduro approached Airion in private.

"There's a war going on!" Aduro exclaimed with the voice of someone who has to be incredibly quiet, but is also had something very urgent to say as well.

"You didn't know? It's been raging for a while now, at least a couple weeks, and you said you'd been in the city a while." Airion responded perplexedly.

"Well," Aduro hesitated about bring about the topic of his amnesia, but decided against it, "I guess I had just not been informed. What are the conflict's sides?"

"The two human kingdoms on Feran, Iris and Unum, as well as the dwarven kingdom of Khazak-Krynn, with little support from the elvish lands of Nagux to the south. The four of these kingdoms have united against the far northern orcish tribes which have started yet another brutal incursion on their southern human neighbors. Though a great deal of orcs have been held at Palanka, as they always have, orcs pass through the Dragon's Teeth mountain range and destroy the lightly guarded villages below."

"That's terrible, then why are we traveling away from the fight, south towards Unum, instead of journeying north to fight."

"Personally, I have nothing against humans, but I have nothing for them either. I am not threatened, so I have no reason to care what the orcs do."

"That's rather selfish of you, don't you think?" traces of anger in Aduro's voice started appearing, a fact which greatly disgruntled Airion.

Airion attempted to defuse the situation quickly, conflict being the farthest from what he wanted accomplished when telling Aduro of the war, "Two elves can't do much to turn the tide of a battle, not one of that scale. Stay safe, travel south until the war has become decisive, where the battles we can participate in truly matter, then we can lend our aid to the humans."

Aduro remained silent, and then he seemed about to speak, but thought better of it and simply walked away discontent with all of the answers he had been given.  
For the next several days on the journey's course, Aduro inquired of everyone in the caravan about the war, hoping to find more satisfactory answers then he had been given. He was not given any.

Finally, the caravan had reached within a day of Unum. However, they had entered a boundary, which had not existed prior to the war, gnoll country.

The first wave of arrows had caught all but the fast-acting Airion off-guard. The flaming projectiles screamed in the dark, moonless night, and the caravan, which had begun setting up to cease traveling for the day, had yet to light even a fire when the gnolls had attacked.

Airion hastily lit his torch in the darkness. Once it had caught fire, he set it down and traveled far from it, allowing his keen elven eyes to adjust the small amount of light he had gifted himself and Aduro. The arrows shot out of the darkness and lashed out at the non-existent bearer of the torch and Airion noted all of the arrows' origins. With the feel of the sturdy wooden longbow in his hands, he drew the silk string back taught, releasing several arrows into the night, his fine ears hearing the only slightly audible thuds created by the gnolls' deaths. Again, he took the torch and placed it down, allowing the trap to take effect once again, silently and methodically picking off the gnolls who thought they had struck down another helpless human in the night.

Aduro, noting Airion's plan, mimicked the idea in his own style. He too lit a torch but grasped it firmly in his left hand, and with his other, dominant hand, he drew a sword that appeared much too large for anyone to hold with but a single hand. Had it been daylight, one could easily have viewed Aduro's arm quivering from the effort, and lauded his ability to hold such a monstrous weapon in one hand for any length of time at all. Allowing his eyes to adjust to the light he plunged into the surrounding foliage, taking care to avoid setting the forest ablaze.

The gnolls, panicked briefly at the thought of an attacker descending on their position but they quickly regained their calm in the realization that it could only be a sole opponent. The gnolls adopted malicious grins as they aimed their shots at the foolish elf that thought he alone could fight against the small squad of gnolls positioned there. The arrows flew a brief distance before connecting with their target. Some of the arrows reflected off the heavy splint mail that adorned the elf's body, but a good deal still penetrated directly into his torso. The gnolls' manic laughter ceased abruptly when they realized that the elf had not even faltered slightly and continued his slow, inexorable march towards them, small torchlight gradually drawing closer. Still, the gnolls remained calm, allowing another wave of steel death to rain upon him. It was when the fusillade had passed and the elf still remained unaffected that they panicked. The torchlight drew closer. The next wave of shots flew aimlessly past him, burrowing their deadly tips into inanimate trees and brush. The gnolls screamed in the night with genuine fear at the unceasing approach of the flame that signaled their demise. They let loose a desperate volley of arrows again at the sole opponent who defied their attempts to slay him, and but a sole arrow struck him, snugly nesting itself in his right shoulder. Had it not been for their panic they would have noted droop that occurred in his right arm bearing the now visible sword, light from the torch reflecting upon the reaper's scythe.

The gnolls' morale gave way and they turned to run, but it was already too late. A single sword stroke descended resolutely upon the leader of the small group and he was cleaved in two, with the same blow passing through his body cutting like a knife through paper into the gnoll alongside him. The torchlight quivered slightly as Aduro moved his hand to set another gnoll ablaze. The gnoll burst out of the forest, fur aflame, rolling upon the ground in an attempt to soothe the fire, but the blaze remained insatiable until it had claimed all his screams and all his vitality. Even then, the flame burned in the darkness. The last two gnolls were able to flee, but one, in his sheer terror, ran headlong into a tree collapsing backward helplessly on the floor. The other appeared to have gotten away until Aduro effortlessly tossed the sword at the gnoll, blade carving through his spinal column and killing the terrified beast. The last gnoll huddled in the corner against the tree that had stopped its hasty withdrawal, frightened whimpers emanating from its snout. The torchlight grew closer, and the gnoll, had it been calm could have launched an attack against the unarmed elf who, at this point, had a multitude of arrows protruding from his body, but he did not. Finally, Aduro's face loomed into view with a blank, soulless gaze. The gnoll had seen a demon itself, and its horrified scream ended abruptly as Aduro launched his fist through its throat.

By the time the cloud had passed, and the moon was visible again, discontinuing the gnolls' ideal ambush scenario, the caravan guard, comprised entirely of humans from the capital of Iris, was surprised to note that the gnolls had all been slain. Emerging from the forest, giant sword in hand and torch long since discarded, was Aduro, bloodied and covered in arrows. Airion too had snuffed out his torch and returned to the main caravan party, satisfied with he and his companion's attributions to the group. The leader of the caravan, who Airion learned was called Galain Anumel, stood and saw that though many of the guard had been wounded, the two elves' actions had prevented any deaths to the well-timed ambush. Some of the guard simply stood in dumbfounded shock, while the rest, Galain included, gave a resounding cheer, which echoed in the night.

The remainder of the journey continued without incident, though Aduro complained about the many injuries he had received only to receive chiding from Airion due to his reckless behavior that had caused such wounds. Still, the elf showed amazing constitution, though he had received the grievous wounds only a day ago, by the time the caravan had reached its destination he was on his feet again.

Aduro and Airion spent the remainder of the night in revelry; given the admirable sum that Galain had happily bestowed them for their praiseworthy actions. When the two had finally retired to their single room, upon Airion's insistence not to waste money, despite Aduro's protests for separate boarding, they discovered a simple note scrawled on improvised paper that hid been slid under the small crease between the floor and the bottom of the wooden door. It read, '_Around back.'_ Despite its suspicious appearance, Airion and Aduro simply grabbed their weapons and exited the inn, finding the location indicated by the note. There they found their previous employer, Galain Anumel, standing there with a simple smile playing across his face.

"Are you two still interested in work? This next job pays three times as much as your last."

Instantly, Airion inquired, "What job?"

Galain signaled for the two to approach closer, which the two did and he responded, his voice but a hushed tone, "An assassination."

Both leapt back at such a notion, but quickly calmed as Galain explained, "This man, a noble in fact, for reasons I cannot explain nor give out to you, is guilty of crimes for which he must be punished. Now, as a member of this association that wants to see him punished, I am afraid that we cannot act out to deliver this punishment; however, a pair of thieves in the night could have claimed him in his sleep, perhaps? I was just wondering if you two could play your roles as the thieves?"

Airion agreed, despite Aduro's hesitance. "Where is he?"

"The Red Dragon Inn, you'll be able to find it several blocks down from here. Actually, these two inns are competitors; you'll be doing this one a fine business favor. His name is Adalric Belard."

"I have no interest in a petty feud between inns, but I shall perform this task for you."

Before the two elves walked off, Galain said, "I'm staying in room five when you're finished. Just give a knock."

After returning to their rooms and grabbing but daggers, which they concealed in their clothing, the two made a several minute walk to the Red Dragon Inn. Upon entering, they noted the many faces within the tavern, much more than in the one they had stayed in, the Silver Drake, denoting which side was winning the competitive war. Stepping past the foolhardy drunks they sat in front of the innkeeper.

"Do you two need a room or a drink? Maybe both?" the innkeeper was jovial as was the mood in his tavern, starkly contrasting the two's purpose for their midnight visit.

Three gold pieces slid across the bar towards the innkeeper, who was about to state the overly exorbitant amount he had been given for but a drink, even the finest ale, when Aduro stated, "I'll take the strongest in the house. Also, which room is Adalric Belard staying in?"

The innkeeper quickly took the gold pieces given to him and replied, "He's upstairs all the way down the hall, door to the right. He's out for a walk right now, though, you'll have to catch him later."

Two more gold pieces flashed from Aduro's concealing cloak, "No, that's perfect actually. This conversation never happened."

Thus, the two left, leaving the innkeeper dumbfounded to as who could sling around such money just to get such a small piece of information. More surprisingly, was the already emptied glass that he had handed the same person he had been conversing with only maybe ten seconds prior.

The two calmly climbed the steps to their goal and Airion flashed a thin piece of wire, which he used to undo the simple lock that barred their target's current domain. Then the two entered and subsequently locked the door.

Adalric Belard returned briskly from his walk feeling incredibly refreshed. By this point in time, most of the inn inhabitants had retired to their quarters, innkeeper included, and Adalric had not even a single clue to the unpleasant visitors that waited in his room. He walked up the same stairs that they had traversed up several minutes ago humming a lovely tune of his homeland. Removing the key from his pocket he unlocked the lock and locked it upon entrance of the room, content to retire to his bed considering the current hour. Though, a small note that had not been on the table prior caught his interest, and Adalric lit a hand candle and started to read, thinking it perhaps a note from the innkeeper. It read two words, _'Behind you.' _Adalric turned alarmingly, the small flame from the hand candle getting snuffed out due to his sudden movement against the air around him. Airion emerged from beneath the table now that he was situated behind his target, who had foolishly taken the message from his potential killers at face value. His dagger drawn, Adalric could not even emit a scream before his life, whether truly corrupt or not, was ended by a brief stroke from the small piece of steel. Aduro emerged from hiding as well and the two worked on disposing the body.

Upstairs, all the way down the hall, door to the left, Kael Meleth slept peacefully as two murderers left the Red Dragon Inn as he was unable to stop them.

Though they would never be aware of it, Airion and Aduro caused the end to the Red Dragon Inn and Silver Drake's long-lasting competitive battle. The news of the murder quickly reached fruition and the Red Dragon was soon abandoned in favor of its only close competitor. The family-owned Red Dragon Inn closed down and the Connell family, which had owned the Red Dragon for the several generations it had been in place, soon became bankrupt and were forced to live in miserable poverty and suffering before the entire family line succumbed to starvation, the Red Dragon having been the family's sole source of income. Oh, how one adopts such shortsighted views of their actions and its long-lasting aftereffects.


	7. Plague of Avum

Their travel had carried them for several days, no clear destination in mind, and would have continued to do so had not supplies, or lack thereof, forced otherwise. As such, the trio decided to rest and restock in a nearby town, Lunas, before continuing their journey across a torn countryside again.

When their eyes finally came to view the town of Lunas, it was a detestable sight indeed. Wherever the eye searched not even the slightest inkling of activity could be seen, nor wherever the ear strained could the noise of work be heard. Moving through the odd ghost town, the three moved together, cautiously, their previous proud gaits replaced by furtive progress. However, Aduro's bulky armor made such movement difficult if not impossible, and each step of progress warranted unwanted attention. It was the complete of absence of noise of any kind, save for Aduro's constant clamor, that unnerved them most of all, not even rats stirred amongst the refuse. When a door burst open, it had taken all the restraint they possessed not to instantly kill the man that had emerged and so easily unnerved the three.

The man was unarmed and appeared harmless, if not overly so. He ran out to meet the three of them and the last iota of strength departing from him, he collapsed at their feet, reminiscent of the respect a servant would show his master upon greeting. From his ignoble position, he meekly raised his head to greet them, as a child would look up uncertain at a stranger. His eyes were sunken and sleep depraved, his body showed signs of once being strong and able, now only the paragon of weakness and inability. It did not take much for any of three to a perform anything more than a cursory examination to reveal that he was ridden with plague, and one that had taken its toll on his body. Still, through what appeared to be monumental strain, he urged his voice to emerge, a weak noise though it seemed laced with all his effort.

"Please, help us. The people of this town are dying from plague."

"Evidently," Airion added, garnering a hard stare from his companion, Kael. Kael refocused his attention on the suffering man,

"How can we help?" he emphasized the initial word in his sentence, himself having already agreed to aiding the townsfolk.

"Nearby," the man ceased as a series of haggard coughs overtook him, the noise of it consumed in a sordid crescendo culminating as the man vomited on the ground in front of the three. He visibly strained as he attempted to look up at his potential rescuers, but failing he resigned to speaking into the ground. Aduro and Kael knelt down to hear him, "there is an abandoned mine that was inhabited by kobolds recently," a cough shook him, "the same time the plague came."

He raised his hand weakly in the direction of the cave, easily spotted by the group. The man shivered in front of them and collapsed completely, his face meeting with his midday meal. Airion shook his head with disdain, and scowled when Aduro moved to pick him up and return him to his home. Emerging, he addressed Airion,

"There is a monetary reward," he spat out the word monetary like poison. Eagerly, Airion nodded with approval, making himself the first to traverse in the direction of the nearby mine, his two companions trailing quickly behind.

Upon reaching its entrance, they noted that even the entrance was in extreme disarray, abandoned carts overturned and empty, torches within unlit, and various support beams appeared unstable, as if threatening to collapse the cave upon any who dared to trespass. Tentatively, Airion and Aduro lit torches of their own and the three started their progress into the mines.

Luckily, the mine itself was straightforward enough, bearing little chance in becoming lost, though the unstable nature of their environment prompted both extreme caution and increasing trepidation as the support beams appeared less and less maintained. Their progress was slow and fickle, the odd displacement of stones by their feet caused them to freeze entirely several times, they themselves looking up and praying that their ceiling did not collapse. The dim lights from their torches beat back the darkness, and unaided inside the dismal cavern, it was the only reassuring thought.

It was when their fading lights were accompanied by others glowing in the distance did the two elves extinguish their own mundane source of comfort. The dim light was not enough for Kael, prompting Airion to lead him through the oppressive darkness that now nearly engulfed him. The three knelt down, in an attempt to limit the chances of them being detected and they waited, and they listened. Ahead, sounds of conversation were blatantly evident, undisguised by those speaking, though it seemed distant. For a time, they were still out of anxiety and when the conversation faded away did Airion address his companion in the quietest voice the vociferous elf could manage.

"It does not appear that these creatures are the culprits for the spate that currently ails the people of Lunas."

"Wait you can speak kobold?" Aduro queried. Airion nodded, and Aduro gave a mocking smile as if the knowledge of such was a blow against his intelligence. Ignoring it, though Kael allowed himself a mental chuckle, Airion continued,

"They were talking about how they want to be free of the plague themselves," Airion's eyes strained into the illumination, his mind finally willing to realize that their supposed opponents were bed-ridden at best.

"Apparently, these mines go even deeper, and that's the source of the plague. Whoever has been orchestrating this operates there," Airion paused, unsettled, "and whoever is doing this has taken routine trips and it takes one of the kobolds, and within the hour, the agonized death-screams fill the cavern like the darkness."

Kael shuddered, both at the thought of that and that whoever was performing these vile deeds had waited until the kobolds had come, depending on the hatred between the humans and the kobolds to prevent either side from rationalizing with each other why they were both diseased, "So, we're just going to stroll right on in now?"

Aduro did not even grace him with a nod and he walked into the accepting light. Airion calmly followed, and with the darkness beckoning him at his back, he found it hard not to follow suit. Now fully within the haven of light did the three realize the state of those within the cavern. Without even simple lodging, the diseased were forced to rest and sleep upon cold hard stone or whatever they can find amongst the rubble, though at its peak, that was not much. In the center of the room, Airion spoke in their detestable language, and he received weak whimpers in reply. Kael asked Airion of what he had said.

"I told them we meant them no harm, and that we were going to cure the plague. Those whimpers you heard was all they could manage as a resounding cheer."

The three moved past the makeshift housing created by the kobolds readying themselves to descend deeper into the darkness that led to their goal.

Aduro observed the wretched state of the creatures and commented, "And I thought they couldn't get any uglier."

Kael laughed in an unsuccessful attempt to reassure himself. The wide mine opening once again receded to a small narrow walkway, and Kael could not help but notice that they were descending, as if willingly entering the maw of hell itself. He voiced the thought to his companions in an attempt to comfort himself, proving only to further unsettle them all.

The darkness in this section of the mine was overwhelming, even the torchlight put up a futile struggle in keeping the consuming darkness at bay, with every second it appeared as if the darkness crept closer, ready to engulf them entirely. As they crept along the dimly lit cavern passage, a sound, weak and distant at first, slowly grew into an unsettling rhythmic replacement for the silence that had been with them in this section of the mine. As they progressed further, Kael could identify it as a chant, allowing him the thought that their goal was near, both calming and frightening him at the same time.

The passage of time was unknown as the setting around them was eerily similar. When an interruption to the interminable monotony appeared it was welcome, despite the interruption's distressing state. A long, makeshift drape impeded their progress, the rags lined with bells assuring that any daring enough to disrupt its rest would alert those further within. The chanting had become disturbingly loud, and the three knew that the source lie just beyond the drapes. Airion moved to part the haggard cloth he quickly jerked back his hand at the touch. It was made of skin, but it felt strangely human. Aduro sensed his companion's distress, and he brought up an armored glove to move the drapes aside, the bells cheerfully ringing a warning to whom had set it up.

The chanting abruptly ceased as the three entered the room, the skin curtains falling back into place, tolling a final warning to the one who had set it up. The room they entered was disquieting; its contents were horrendous. The cavern room had been set up as a makeshift shrine to a deity that Kael recognized immediately, Avum. Holy symbols and the like were lined across the cavern faces in blood like paint across a canvas. Kobold remains littered the cavern as common as rock debris. Their bodies had been visibly feasted upon some so horrendously thorough that what was left was meager rotting flesh and cracked bone. A lacquer stone slab was at the epicenter of the shrine, a long steel blade resting neatly atop its surface. Detached kobold arms held up the stone, and four kobold legs mimicked their positions on a humane counterpart. Several skeletons fully cleaned of flesh were positioned in worship towards the altar, a mocking semblance of an actual congregation.

A lone figure was in worship at the altar, but, the bells having alerted him to the presence of intruders, he rose and grasped the steel blade firmly in his hands before turning to face those who had interrupted his veneration. Their foe was clad fully from head to toe in an encasement of steel, thick plate mail preventing the three from issuing him immediate harm. At a loss, their foe initiated the fight for them, surging forward with blade raised prompting his foes to react.

Airion danced away, his hands making practiced reactions, reaching for his bow. Grasped steadily in his hands, he let loose an arrow, which deflected off his opponent's pauldron. Kael eased away from their armored adversary abandoning the notion of his magic as soon as he saw Aduro drawing his two-handed sword. Instead, he reached for his crossbow, clumsily loading a bolt and firing it, missing his foe.

With sword in hand, Aduro rushed out to meet his coming foe. His adversary's blade came down in a mighty arc, but Aduro, freer in movement, narrowly moved aside and delivered his own attack. The force caught the man head on in his cuirass, stopping his momentous charge. The blade embedded itself deeply inside the thick metal armor, but produced no immediate result. Aduro pulled his blade free and created distance between him and his opponent, unable to note any kind of wound on his enemy. Again the man charged as futile arrows and bolts deflected off the thick metal casing. Aduro aimed a slice across the man's chest and his blade found purchase in the man's thick armor. Unable to remove his blade, his foe took that millisecond advantage and caught Aduro in the thigh, a deep red gash left in the blade's wake.

Aduro pulled his blade free, but knew now that he would have to continually face his opponent's relentless onslaught now that his movement was severely impaired and painful. In a rage, he launched a furious attack, blow after blow resounding off heavy armor. Several of the attacks cut deep into his foe's shell, but produced no result. Aduro realized why when he took note of his opponent's wounds, the flesh was rotten and dead, no blood poured from the various cuts caused by Aduro's mighty swings. His foe stabbed, vicious point punching a hole in his good leg. Aduro dropped to one knee, and desperately parried his opponent's flurry of overhead blows, each attack drawing steadily closer to him.

The onslaught suddenly ceased as Airion punched through his foe's armor with an arrow, the force of such a close ranged shot stopping the creature's advance. Taking advantage of both the new impetus and the fresh vulnerabilities in armor the Aduro had caused, Airion steadily advanced, a stream of arrows flowing onto the armored warrior. A shot found its way past the bevor, another attack penetrating the left couter, a well-placed shot found its way through the poleyn. Airion kept up his momentum and continued to let a hail of steel surround his foe, and though most of his deadly attacks reflected off the heavy armor, the select few that passed would produce fruitful result, whether or not their opponent actually felt it. He shot another arrow through the man's remaining poleyn and dropped their foe to his knees, pinning his blade to the ground by shooting an arrow through his right vambrace. An arrow deflected off his helmet, the sheer force of the blow shooting his head backwards, allowing Airion another shot at his neck. Suddenly, a maelstrom of fire accompanied the steel storm, and the metal armor quickly superheated and cooked the man alive even as arrow after arrow found the weak points in his armor.

As the raging blaze died away, Airion lowered his arms, aching from the effort of such a prolonged and intense exchange. Aduro remained on the ground, his wounds preventing him from rising over his defeated foe. Kael allowed himself a soft cheer in their victory, and he soon recalled the arcane flames to set the shrine ablaze before their departure, Aduro supported both by Kael and Airion.

Upon reacquainting themselves with the town, a pleasant site greeted them; the inhabitants of the town were up and about again, the bustling movement of activity filling the settlement with life once more. Aduro smiled despite his injuries, as did Kael, who was the only one of the three to then realize that the plague had been magical, lifted by the death of its issuer. The man that had initially greeted them, apparently the mayor, rushed out to greet them for a second time that day and he showered them with praise, as did the entire town of Lunas. The three companions celebrated that day, being granted free supply and lodging, Airion himself content with the pay they had received. The celebration of their valor continued long into the night and well into the morning, finding the three sleeping on the tavern floor until well past midday.


End file.
